


The Wrecks

by blubark



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Pirate AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-09 20:34:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19893937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blubark/pseuds/blubark
Summary: Eve and Villanelle find out what they have in common, and bring an island to ruins in the process.A Pirate AU.





	1. Chapter 1

Eve yawned, rubbing at her eye with a knuckle, trying to massage wakefulness into it. Her back felt stiff from sitting in the uncomfortable waiting chair so long, its wooden back seeming almost to lean forwards, pushing her into her own knees. She rested her chin in her hands, staring at the door, the way it stayed determinedly closed, mocking her. The hallway had no windows, no decorations unless you counted the chair, was just a narrow, dark crack through _The Golden Lion_ which led to Carolyn’s office, the cellar, and the bar. The only light came from the lanterns hung at intervals along the wall, and so Eve wasn’t entirely sure if she had been here for twenty minutes or an hour, waiting for her meeting with Carolyn. 

She nodded to Kenny as he scurried past balancing bottles of some amber-coloured liquor in his arms. He grimaced at her in an apologetic way, although Eve knew he had as much control over his mother as Eve did.

‘She shouldn’t be long,’ he said again. He looked tired, and Eve wondered how late the tavern had been open last night.

Eve sighed. ‘Thanks.’ She knew Kenny was just basing the comment on the hope that he’d be able to walk down the hallway at least once this morning without having to acknowledge Eve. He disappeared up the hall, bumping his way through the door into the bar section of the building, and she tried adjusting her position in the chair, shuffling her butt down to lean her shoulders into the back. It was definitely crooked, and Eve huffed to herself.

She had just finished counting the knots in the wooden floor when she heard a door open. She jerked her head up to look at Carolyn’s office door, but it remained firmly shut. Instead, the door Eve had entered through what felt like a lifetime ago was open, and a young woman stepped into the far end of the corridor, a waft of still-cool morning air following her in. Her black pants were tucked into calf-length, shined boots, her ruffled white shirt spotless underneath her knee-length charcoal coat. The only thing that looked like it had been worn before was the hat, which sagged down on one side, the brim slightly frayed.

Villanelle.

Eve sat up as straight as she could in the chair, smoothing down the front of her skirt, running a hand through her hair, fingers getting tangled in a knot at the back. She felt wide awake now, trapped as she was in such a narrow space with the pirate.

Villanelle, for her part, had stopped at the entranceway, staring at Eve as though startled by her presence. Silence dragged out between them, and still Villanelle didn’t move, an unreadable expression on her delicate face. Eve had never been close enough to her before to get a good grasp on her features, the femininity of them at odds with her reputation for casual violence, had recognised her more by her clothes than anything else.

‘She shouldn’t be long,’ Eve said, desperate to break the strange tension between them, the way Villanelle seemed to be stuck in some thought. Villanelle didn’t move, didn’t even blink, still scrutinising Eve. ‘Well, I’m not sure, but, I think she won’t be long, if you want to wait. Do you want the chair? I can – ’

‘Who are you?’ Villanelle took a step forwards now, her footsteps loud against the floorboards. She took up space when she moved, intimidating despite her slightness, making Eve feel trapped in a more definite way that the closed doors and lack of light.

‘Eve,’ she said, her voice thin. ‘Eve Polastri.’

‘Eve Polastri.’ Villanelle turned her name over in her mouth like she could taste it, like she liked it, and Eve swallowed. Villanelle stopped in front of Carolyn’s door and took off her hat, rubbing the brim with her fingertips. She tilted her head, smiled. ‘You know me?’ She had her hair tied back from her face, and Eve could see a faint red mark on her temple where the hat had sat.

‘I, um, yes.’ Eve twisted her fingers together. ‘I’ve heard of you.’

‘And what have you heard?’ Villanelle said, with a sharp grin.

Eve thought of Hugo’s face as he insisted Villanelle ate men’s hearts to gain their power, the way Bill had rolled his eyes and stopped paying for the younger man’s drinks. She wondered how Villanelle would react to that, to her saying that she’d heard about a witch, a monster, a killer. Probably not well.

‘All good things,’ she said instead, wincing as she did.

Villanelle’s grin widened, a mocking edge to it. ‘Are you sure you’re thinking of me?’

Eve nodded, once, a flush on her cheeks, and Villanelle echoed the movement back as if in approval. The silence stretched out between them again, but this time Villanelle broke it.

‘You’re the secretary?’ Villanelle said, gesturing at the door. 

Eve gave a half laugh, relaxing a fraction. ‘Oh, no, I’m – ’

‘So, you have no power to stop me going in there?’

‘Well, no, but – ’

‘OK, thank you, Eve.’ Villanelle turned back to the door. ‘Pleasure and such.’

‘Uh, you can’t just – ‘ Eve felt the words die in her mouth when Villanelle looked back at her.

Villanelle smiled sweetly. ‘I can’t?’

Eve watched her open the door, maintaining eye contact. Eve was reminded of Niko’s old cat that had died on the crossing from England, how it would stare at her while slowly swiping their cups from the table.

‘Yes?’ Carolyn said, from inside the room.

Villanelle smirked at Eve, before turning her head to look at Carolyn and stepping inside. ‘I’m here on behalf of Konstantin. Captain Vasiliev, or whatever.’ She made to shut the door behind her when Carolyn spoke again.

‘Have you heard of knocking?’ Carolyn’s voice was calm and level, but the clipped tone spoke of a deep-seated frustration.

Eve put a hand to her mouth to prevent anyone seeing her smile.

Villanelle knocked once against the door. ‘Happy?’

‘I’m actually expecting someone else. You’ll need to wait.’

There was a long pause. Eve could see Villanelle’s knuckles whiten where she gripped the door handle.

‘I’m here now,’ Villanelle said.

‘I don’t like to just shuffle my meetings like that. Throws me off. You understand.’

Villanelle shook her head a fraction. ‘I don’t really care.’

Another pause. ‘If you could send Eve in when she gets here, that would be appreciated.’

‘I’m not your servant,’ Villanelle snapped.

‘I know,’ Carolyn said, mild.

‘So – ‘

‘So, yes, just send Eve in.’

Villanelle let go of the door handle, turned back into the hall. She was scowling, deep lines carved in her forehead, and she waved the hand holding her hat at Eve, back at the door.

Eve stood, skirting around Villanelle into the room, closing the door in the other woman’s angry face. The room was bright with natural light, the windows behind Carolyn cracked slightly to allow fresh air in, a welcome change from the stuffiness in the hall. Carolyn looked up from her wide desk, a small smile on her face.

‘Good morning.’

Eve gestured behind her at the door. ‘Uh, you handled that… well?’

‘Oh, a firm hand is all people need. What took you so long?’ Carolyn seemed scattered, her voice and face as calm and clear as always, but she spoke faster than usual, a certain urgency underpinning the way she moved.

Eve hesitated. ‘The door was closed. I thought you were in a meeting?’ She itched to ask what she’d been doing instead, but it wasn’t her place.

Carolyn smiled, a small quirk of her lips. ‘Has anyone ever told you you’re unfailingly polite, Eve?’

‘Um. No. Thank you.’

‘I’m not sure it’s a compliment.’ Carolyn gestured for Eve to sit, and Eve did so, before wondering if perhaps she shouldn’t have. ‘Now, what were we meeting about?’

‘Um. I don’t know. You wanted to talk to me?’ Eve watched as Carolyn arranged the papers on her desk, shuffling them around on the desk like playing cards. Carolyn always worked under a certain degree of apparent disorganisation, but this was the first time she’d ever seen her have trouble locating something. Eve frowned. ‘Is everything alright?’

‘Mm, just a busy morning,’ Carolyn said.

‘What’s going on?’

‘Nothing to concern you.’ She seemed to get everything where she wanted it, pulling a sheet of paper out and looking up at Eve. ‘Ah, yes. I called you here because I need you to tell Captain Algaron that we won’t be buying any of his goods when he gets back.’

‘Why me?’ Eve said, before she could stop herself, the words ripped out of her by some primal need to not have to talk to Raymond any more than strictly necessary.

Carolyn shrugged. ‘I’m almost entirely certain he would murder Bill on the spot.’

Eve gave a weak laugh, and Carolyn just looked at her. ‘Uh, I mean, surely he would take it better coming from you? Or the Twelve?

Carolyn looked at her now, arched an eyebrow. ‘I don’t have time to do everything, Eve. And you’re likely to be there when he gets back.’

‘No, but – ‘

‘You’re perfectly capable of delivering a message.’

Eve shifted in the chair, pressing her lips together to prevent herself arguing further.

‘If he asks why, tell him to be more careful. A British ship spotted _The Red Axe_ leaving the scene of a very bloody crime.’ Carolyn passed Eve the sheet of paper. Eve glanced down, taking in the neat, pinched handwriting of some clerk in Port Royal, asking people to be on the lookout for the ship. ‘He’ll be grounded upon his return, too.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yes.’ Carolyn sighed. ‘He’s very discreet.’

Eve slid the paper back to Carolyn. ‘Has this been run past the Twelve?’

Carolyn raised an eyebrow. ‘No,’ she said. ‘But if they want us to keep trading their goods, they’ll listen to us, won’t they?’

Eve bit her lip, nodded.

‘Eve.’ Carolyn steepled her fingers, peering over the top of them at her. ‘Raymond needs us. The Twelve need us. And I need you to step up. We’ll both benefit from you taking on greater responsibility. Perhaps it will teach you to be a bit more… assertive?’ She leaned back in her seat, the wood creaking slightly with her movement. ‘That’s all.’

Eve stood and was halfway to the door when Carolyn called out to her.

‘Am I keeping the same amount back this month?’

Eve turned back to her. ‘If that’s alright?’

‘Of course. But you’re building up quite the nest egg,’ Carolyn said.

‘Well, you know,’ Eve said, smiling as best she could with the sick, guilty feeling twisting in her gut.

‘Between you and your husband, you must be nearly there?’

Carolyn had a way of circling politeness and truth like a shark, and Eve’s every action just seemed to put more blood in the water, more ways for Carolyn to drag her down, should she choose. The trick, Bill said, was making sure you weren’t worth eating.

Eve didn’t trust herself to speak, keeping the smile on her face and shrugging.

‘I’d be sorry to see you go, if you were. That’s all.’ Carolyn looked at her for a moment longer, before she flicked her eyebrows up. ‘Could you send in Villanelle, please?’

Eve let her smile drop as she turned to the door, taking a deep breath to try and calm the beating of her heart. She opened the door and almost bumped into Villanelle, who leaned away from her with an innocent expression on her face, despite the fact that she was standing under the door jam. God, her boots must have been touching the door.

‘Were you _listening_?’ Eve said, anger spreading through her chest.

Villanelle popped her lips. ‘No?’

Eve clenched her hands into fists. ‘Seriously?’

‘You don’t need to worry, Eve, I won’t tell anyone.’ Villanelle dropped her voice to a whisper, looking down at Eve with an expression full of teeth.

Eve knew she was meant to be cowed, intimidated, but she couldn’t breathe past her rage, planting her palm against Villanelle’s shoulder and shoving her. Villanelle took an exaggerated step backwards, and Eve stepped around her.

‘Ouch,’ Villanelle said, voice mocking, her grin only widening.

Eve gritted her teeth and marched down the hall away from the woman. She felt sick, anxious, the thought that news of her savings might escape Carolyn’s office threatening to send her into a meltdown. If Niko found out…

She shoved her way through the door at the end of the hall, nearly cracking Kenny who was bustling by. He caught the edge of the door with a thankfully empty hand, stopping it from hitting his face.

‘Please tell Elena how athletic that was,’ he said, a self-deprecating twist to his smile. He frowned as he took in her expression. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Never better,’ she snapped, making a beeline for the double doors of the tavern. She pushed her way out onto the sandy street, the sun shining directly in her eyes.

‘Eve?’ Kenny caught her arm and she shrugged him off. ‘I’m sorry, I should have warned you. She’s been off all morning. I don’t know what’s wrong. Are you OK?’

Eve sighed, meeting his worried gaze. ‘It’s nothing with your mother, Kenny.’

‘Oh. Good. Uh. Anything I can help with?’

She smiled at him, trying to let his anxiety soothe her own. Maybe Kenny would let her live in the tavern if Niko divorced her. ‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘Alright. Well, um, come in for drinks later, yeah? Employee discount.’ He nudged her with his knuckles, an awkward little gesture, and she nodded.

‘Sure.’

She felt a little better for being out in the open air, and was halfway to the warehouse before she realised she probably shouldn’t have touched the pirate.

…

Villanelle watched Eve storm from the tavern, grinning at her back in case she turned around. Something warm sat in her chest, possibly satisfaction, possibly happiness. Eve shoving her had been nice too. Rude, but also _different_. She could count on one hand the number of people who would dare to touch her, dare to physically move her. It intrigued her, and she wanted to go after Eve, wring another reaction from her, play against her emotions like a conductor, see what else there was to see.

‘Are you coming in?’ Carolyn said.

Villanelle sighed. Perhaps another time. She turned her attention back to Carolyn, raising her knuckles to rap against the door in a jaunty little tune. ‘Oh, please, may I?’

‘Of course. See, aren’t manners delightful?’

Villanelle entered the room, shutting the thick door behind her a tad harder than necessary. Carolyn was lucky that Konstantin seemed to actually care if she was alive or dead, or Villanelle would be thinking a little more seriously about whether to hide or display the body, the other woman’s confidence in the face of danger galling. She’d never been into Carolyn’s office before, never really interacted with the woman much beyond standing bored behind Konstantin as he discussed the minutiae of trade and scheduling.

Light streamed in from the large, clear windows behind Carolyn, the bright glow of morning lending the room a golden hue. Carolyn sat behind a thick oak desk, the legs curving down to the floor in an elegant way that spoke of excellent craftsmanship. Villanelle wondered if she’d had it shipped from London, if the maker’s mark would be in the drawers or under the flat top, contemplated crouching down to see.

‘Thank you for being patient,’ Carolyn said. ‘I was expecting Konstantin.’

‘He is busy,’ Villanelle said, sitting in the chair across from her and flinging a leg over the armrest.

‘Anything I should be concerned about?’ Carolyn said.

‘No. He’s just picking a new first mate.’ Villanelle rubbed at a small white mark on the knee of her pants, wondering how it had gotten there. It didn’t budge.

‘Another one?’ Carolyn sounded carefully disinterested, and Villanelle kept her face blank, pressing her finger harder into the mark as if she could stamp it out.

Villanelle shrugged. ‘I think the position is cursed. They just won’t stop dying.’ Perhaps it was bird shit, she thought, taking her finger away.

Carolyn studied her. ‘You’ve been on the crew a long time.’

‘Yeah.’ She put her hat over her knee to hide the mark from herself, looked up at Carolyn.

‘Konstantin’s right-hand.’ Carolyn raised one eyebrow.

‘Mmhmm.’ Villanelle regarded her with a flat expression.

‘You’re not being considered, though.’

‘No.’ Villanelle dragged the word out, watching Carolyn’s face not move an inch. She waited for Carolyn to overplay her hand, reveal if the questioning was just to rub salt in some wound she thought Villanelle must have, or for some other purpose.

Carolyn stared at her for a moment longer, before nodding. ‘Right, then. I have good intelligence on the movements of a Spanish ship, next week.’ She passed a folded piece of paper over to Villanelle. ‘It will be a good opportunity to test out the new mate. Make sure they’re a good fit.’

Villanelle picked it up and tucked it into her pocket as she stood. She pulled her hat on, trying not to look at the white spot again.

‘Oh, and Villanelle? I do hope the next person lives long enough to meet me.’

Villanelle smiled, tipping her hat to Carolyn. ‘I’m sure they hope so too,’ she said, crossing to the door. She half hoped to catch Eve back at the door, to discover a petty streak in the woman, but the hall was empty.

She thought for a second before turning left instead of right, walking up towards the door to the bar, pushing it open. A man was crouched down, looking in the back of a cupboard for something.

‘Hello?’

The man jumped, banging the back of his head against the shelf. He came up, rubbing at his hair, before blinking at Villanelle.

‘Hi,’ he said, his voice wary.

Villanelle plastered her friendliest smile on, and he took a step back.

‘Eve Polastri dropped this,’ Villanelle said, taking the note from Carolyn out of her pocket. ‘In the hallway. Where can I find her?’

‘Oh. I can give it to her. She’s meant to be coming here for drinks, later,’ the man said.

Villanelle pulled the note back, a kind of hatred for the man turning her fingers cold. He seemed suddenly offensive, and she prodded at the impression, wondering if it was to do with his dumb blank face or his dumb thick accent. ‘I’d rather do it myself.’

‘It’s no bother.’

‘I’m doing it,’ Villanelle said, baring her teeth in an expression close to a smile.

The man looked at her uncertainly. ‘Well, she’ll be at the warehouse.’

Villanelle rolled her eyes at him, backing out of the bar and continuing down the hall until she’d left the tavern and its smell of stale beer behind.

She wondered what Eve had been talking about, to get so riled up by the thought Villanelle had overheard. Cheating, probably. Eve was married or a widower, judging by her wedding ring, and people seemed to be very determined not to get caught at that. Eve was certainly beautiful enough to have a lover or two.

Villanelle smiled to herself, wondering what Eve’s type was. Not that it mattered. Villanelle was good at expanding people’s horizons.


	2. Chapter 2

Bill looked up from where he was rummaging through a crate as Eve walked in. ‘You’re late.’ He dropped the book he was holding back into the crate with a thump. ‘And I lost count.’

‘Carolyn was running late,’ Eve said, walking across the packed earth to him. The warehouse had no floor in summer, though they would put down boards to walk on if the winter storms managed to muddy the dirt. It sat about a hundred metres up from the king tide line, the wooden beams rammed into the ground. Its large double doors were open to the beach, giving them a view of the ocean and the dock.

‘That’s not like her,’ Bill said. He pushed up his hat, rubbing his hand across the sweat that had accumulated under the brim. The warehouse was already warm, the tin roof soaking up the sun and heating the inside. Generally, the afternoon breeze was enough to counteract this, and they’d drag chairs to the doors, letting it cool them.

‘But it’s like me?’ Eve felt her annoyance resurface.

Bill shrugged and she snatched the paper from him, starting to organise the crate he’d just abandoned.

‘Alright, what’s wrong?’ Bill squatted down beside her, tapping her hand away from the books to get her to look at him. She refused, staring harder at the leather covers as though she would suddenly be able to speak Spanish. She wondered who’d bothered taking them, considering they would probably end up feeding a fire somewhere.

‘Nothing,’ Eve said.

‘Convincing.’

Eve sighed, sitting back on a crate of something. Probably more worthless books. ‘I think Villanelle listened in on my conversation.’

Bill raised his eyebrows. ‘Villanelle?’

‘Yes.’

‘With Carolyn?’

‘Yes.’

Eve told him about the woman listening at the door, anger rising to the surface as she remembered Villanelle’s smug expression, the unbothered way in which she’d been caught, so sure of Eve’s relative powerlessness.

‘You pushed her?’ Bill looked impressed, eyebrows raised and mouth tugged down.

‘She was in the way,’ Eve said. ‘And she made me mad. It’s – she would have expected it.’ She hoped. The last thing she needed was a pirate thinking she’d slighted them.

‘Hmm.’ Bill scratched at his chin with the pencil Eve had neglected to steal. ‘What’s she like?’

Eve paused, contemplating how best to describe Villanelle’s face, her eyes, her lips, her nose. ‘She’s beautiful.’

Bill grinned at her. ‘I meant her personality.’

‘Oh.’ Eve shrugged. ‘She’s a dick.’

He let out a surprised laugh, shaking his head. ‘But beautiful, hmm?’ He waggled his eyebrows.

‘Oh, stop it. I have eyes.’ She pushed his shoulder, and he leaned away from her.

‘Well then, how many people did you see her kill?’

Eve snorted. ‘None.’

‘Hugo will be disappointed. You’ll have to make something up for him to tell the more gullible people he meets.’ Eve never knew if Bill liked Hugo or just tolerated him for her sake, didn’t really think it mattered.

‘Is he back?’

‘Yeah, he dropped in this morning. Said he was on his way to see Carolyn.’ Bill took the paper from Eve with a gentle pull at the corner, and she opened her fingers to let it run through.

‘I must have just missed him.’ She would have liked to catch him before he saw Carolyn. She liked finding out the latest before her boss, enjoyed the brief moment of speculation before finding out what would happen next.

‘Maybe he ran into Villanelle.’ Bill smirked. ‘We’ll know by whether or not he’s shit his pants next time we see him.’

‘She’s not that scary,’ Eve said, thinking about the woman getting told off by Carolyn.

‘Not if you pushed her.’ Bill tapped her knee with the pencil. ‘When I find you dead, I’ll know who did it.’

‘Thanks, I feel a lot better about the whole thing now.’ Eve put her head in her hands, groaned. ‘And I have to ground Raymond.’

‘Sounds like a fun day for you,’ Bill said, mild. ‘I’ll supervise.’

‘You can take me for a drink tonight, to help me get over it.’

Bill looked over his shoulder at her. ‘I thought Niko had something planned tonight?’

Eve pressed a hand to her forehead. ‘Oh, right. The lamb. Well, I can go after tea, it won’t matter. I’m sure it’s nothing important.’ 

Bill raised his eyebrows, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

‘What?’ Eve said.

Bill shook his head, turning back to his work.

‘What?’

…

Villanelle looked out at the sea, eyes on the thin line between sky and ocean. The _Scylla_ rocked under her feet, the wood creaking in the gentle way it had as the ocean slipped under and around the ship. She’d taken off her coat, rolling up her shirt sleeves to let the breeze cool her arms. She felt restless, something inside her curling through her chest like a snake, an octopus, dragging itself along her organs and up her throat, strangling her from the inside, demanding something from her, ever since she’d found out about Anton. At least she knew now, she supposed, that it wasn’t just Filip’s face that had been such an affront as first mate.

Behind her, Konstantin squinted down at the note Carolyn had sent over, holding it close to his face to try and shadow it from the sun.

‘Thank you for doing this for me, Villanelle,’ Konstantin finally said. She turned back to see him pass the note over to Anton with a smile. ‘Can you make sure everybody is happy?’

‘Of course.’ Anton smiled back, his thin lips tugged to the side. He looked at Villanelle with the same expression, and she stared flatly back, crossing her arms until he walked away. He was always smiling in that way, happy with himself for no reason that Villanelle could see. She’d never noticed it before, how much she hated him.

‘What?’ Konstantin poked her in the ribs, his thick finger digging in.

‘Don’t.’ Villanelle shrugged away from him, tugged her hat a little lower as she resumed looking at the horizon.

‘You’re sulking. Why?’ Konstantin leaned against the thick railing next to her, resting on his forearms.

‘I’m not sulking,’ Villanelle said. She huffed at the look on his face. ‘But Anton?’

Konstantin spread his hands wide. ‘What?’

‘He is a moron.’

‘I would have nobody to choose from if I could only pick people you like,’ Konstantin said. He took a breath, glancing at her out the corner of his eye. ‘I know it’s been hard for you since – ‘

‘Larry,’ Villanelle said.

Konstantin stared at her for a moment before he laughed. ‘Larry?’

‘Yes.’

‘He would not be interested.’

‘Have you asked him? Perhaps he would be very interested. Perhaps he’s been overlooked, treated like a second-class citizen for years.’ Villanelle pouted. ‘Maybe he’s very sad about it.’

‘Perhaps _Larry_ needs to develop some people skills, hmm?’

Villanelle rolled her eyes. ‘Larry is very friendly, people are just stupid.’

‘Villanelle,’ Konstantin said, giving her his most understanding expression. It niggled at her, poking against her like his finger did, sharper than intended and uncomfortable.

‘Well, good luck with Anton. I’m sure you’ll be very happy together.’ She pushed herself off the railing, thinking vaguely of heading ashore, heading to her room, doing something that didn’t make her skin crawl like this.

Konstantin touched her forearm, the gentle look still on him. ‘You know you’re my right-hand.’

Villanelle tugged her arm back, the thing flaring white and hot in her. ‘Not in a way that matters.’

‘Of course it matters.’ Konstantin shook his head. ‘You really want to be the one the crew go to with problems?’

‘No.’ Villanelle screwed up her nose. ‘But – ’

‘But what?’ Konstantin held up a finger as she opened her mouth. ‘Don’t kill Anton, Villanelle. It won’t get you what you want.’

She smiled. ‘I would never.’

She could feel his frowning eyes on her as she walked away, and she made sure to add an extra bounce in her step for his benefit. She reached the doors and slipped below the deck, into the cool embrace of the ship. Out of Konstantin’s gaze, she found breathing easy, her chest hollowed out again, waiting to be filled with something pleasant, something fun. Something nicer than thinking about the past. Perhaps she’d see what Larry had for her.

She was nearly into the kitchen when a voice called out behind her.

‘Darling?’

She screwed up her eyes, sucked in her lips, before turning to smile at Anton. ‘Yes?’

‘We need more water.’ Anton raised an eyebrow at her.

‘So?’ She shrugged, an expansive gesture that knocked her fingers against the wall. The brief feeling of pain was preferable to what his face did to her insides, the way they writhed against the sight of him.

‘So, you’re coming to help.’

‘Mm, I don’t do that.’

‘Mm, you do now.’ Anton smiled at her, a tight expression that stretched his skin across his skull. God, he was ugly.

Villanelle pulled a sad face. ‘I’m just a woman, I couldn’t possibly lift anything.’

‘You sell yourself short, darling.’

Villanelle took a deep breath, contemplating how to make his death here look like an accident. She wondered if she could claim he’d beaten his own head against the wall until he died. ‘So, we go to a well, or something?’ Maybe she could push him in.

He looked at her like she was an idiot, and she curled a hand, imagining it curved against his skull, the way his short hair would feel against her palm. ‘The warehouse.’

‘Oh.’ Villanelle stopped imagining his brains smeared across the floor, started instead to think of seeing Eve Polastri again. She’d thought she would wait until they came back, offer her some trinket, flirt a little, before fucking her on a quiet part of the beach. She’d thought quite a lot about it, actually, the way Eve’s back would turn pink against the hot, white sand, how she’d sound under Villanelle’s hands, how her fingers would be clumsy with desperation against Villanelle’s body. 

‘Are you coming?’ Anton said, and she snapped out of her daydream.

‘Yeah, sure.’

He frowned a little at her change of attitude, a question behind his eyes, before he seemed to decide it wasn’t worth it, walking back up the stairs towards the deck. She followed him up, twisting her head to make sure Konstantin was watching as they got on deck. Konstantin spotted her and scowled, shaking his head in a warning way. She gave him a thumbs up, and he nodded before turning away, back to his contemplation of the clouds. 

‘What was that?’ Anton said, watching the exchange.

‘Nosey, aren’t you?’ Villanelle said, already walking towards the dock. ‘I’ll see you there.’

…

Bill and Eve were sitting down with their lunch when they saw _The Red Axe_ on the horizon, the red prow distinctive even at a distance.

‘Fantastic,’ Bill muttered, putting his apple down on the table. Eve swallowed a large chunk of hers before standing, feeling the piece travel down her throat like a stone. She paced as the ship got closer and closer, Bill watching her from the doorway. She reminded herself that she just had to deliver the message. She could do that. Raymond would be upset, he would probably argue, he might even threaten, and then he would leave because he needed Carolyn, and that meant he needed her.

It would be fine.

Men swarmed off the ship like ants, meandering their way up the sand. A couple peeled off from the bulk of the group, making their way towards the warehouse.

‘Bill! Got room?’ One of the men, short and stocky, yelled up the beach.

Bill waited until they got closer to reply. ‘Not at the moment, Tim. We need to have a word with the Captain.’

Eve made her way to the doors and spotted Raymond standing a short distance away, talking to a crew member. He saw her and smiled, an insincere, ratty expression that never failed to make her skin crawl. She waved at him and he started toward her, no doubt thinking it was to do with prices. She retreated a few steps inside the warehouse, unwilling to leave what felt like safety. It was her ground, and she had power here.

‘Mrs Polastri,’ Raymond said, drawing the words out against his teeth. ‘I trust everything is to your liking?’ His skin was bright red where the sun had touched it, and when he removed his hat Eve could see a white strip across his forehead where the band had sat.

‘Captain. We won’t be buying any of these goods.’ Eve felt her heart beating in her throat – saw Bill hovering in the corner of her vision.

Raymond frowned at her, the first genuine expression she thought she’d ever seen him make. ‘What?’

‘You were spotted leaving the scene of a massacre,’ Eve said. She tried to channel Carolyn’s calm, her control. ‘We can’t sell any of the goods you procured.’ 

Raymond’s face twisted. ‘So?’

‘So, we can’t pay you,’ Eve said. Her throat felt tight. ‘And it would perhaps be best if you lay low, rather than drawing more attention, so Carolyn has asked you to remain on the island, for a time.’ Raymond took a step towards her, his hand going down to the small hatchet he kept on his belt.

‘I’m not Carolyn’s pet,’ Raymond said. Eve clenched her hands into fists behind her back, ready.

‘Of course not. Who would want such an ugly pet?’

Raymond and Eve looked towards the voice. Villanelle leaned in the doorway, examining her knife. She licked her thumb, before rubbing at the metal blade as if she were cleaning it, a look of concentration on her face.

Raymond smirked. ‘You’d know all about being someone’s bitch, wouldn’t you? Vasiliev should keep you on a tighter leash.’

Villanelle grinned, testing the edge of her knife with her thumb. ‘How original. Your wit astounds me.’

‘Are you threatening me?’ Raymond sneered at her, his fingers still wrapped around the hilt of his hatchet.

‘Not yet.’ Villanelle’s smile grew, while her eyes narrowed.

Raymond’s shoulders tensed before he relaxed, expression sliding back into mockery. ‘You’re not worth killing,’ he said, before glancing back at Eve. Villanelle’s face twisted, her grip on the knife tightening. Eve wondered which one of them would die if they fought, hoped it was Raymond.

‘You’re going to pay me,’ Raymond said. ‘These are quality goods.’

‘I can’t,’ Eve said. She wanted to take a step back, didn’t. ‘Sorry.’

‘Money troubles, Raymond?’ Villanelle said. Eve frowned at her, and she winked back. So she had heard, Eve thought, was teasing her as much as Raymond.

‘Shut up.’ Raymond’s face ground through several different expressions, his eyes drifting over to where his men still stood with Bill. They looked annoyed, arms folded, though Eve wasn’t sure if it was the heat or the situation.

‘Tell Carolyn I’m not happy,’ Raymond said. ‘She’ll be making this up to me.’ By the time he turned back to Villanelle she was wearing her smile again, a bright, insincere expression that would have made Eve wary of approaching. Raymond made a beeline for her, bumping against her as he exited. His men peeled away from Bill, walking after him.

‘How will Carolyn live knowing she’s upset you?’ Villanelle called, brushing at her arm where Raymond had touched her. She shoved her knife back into her belt and turned her attention back towards Eve, a cocky grin slashed across her face. ‘Hello again, Eve.’

‘Good morning,’ Eve said, infusing the words with as much politeness and deference as she could, just in case Villanelle was here for some twisted form of revenge. It came out mostly sarcastic.

Villanelle looked amused. ‘You aren’t going to push me again?’

Eve felt the mess of her emotions churn in her stomach again, anger coming out on top. ‘For eavesdropping again?’ Eve said, turning away from Villanelle to retreat deeper into the warehouse, back towards the desk.

She could feel Bill’s eyes on them and flicked a glance at him. He was hovering by the doors with a newcomer, a tall man who was also looking their way, scowling at Villanelle.

Villanelle didn’t seem to notice, focused on Eve. ‘Thank you, Villanelle, for saving me from certain death.’ She changed her accent, a near perfect replica of Eve’s, though her voice was much too high-pitched. It would have been impressive if it were aimed at anyone else.

Eve shook her head. ‘Your posturing made the whole situation worse, actually.’

Villanelle sauntered after her. ‘I wasn’t posturing. I would have gutted him.’ Villanelle took her hat off, running a hand through her hair. ‘I still can, if you like.’

‘No,’ Eve said. She sat behind the desk, a thin bit of wood propped up on crates, a makeshift solution for her and Bill to have something to rest bits of paper on. The chair had been pilfered from a set that Frank had brought back, one leg shorter than the others. She tried to look angry and immovable as the chair wobbled under her. ‘I know how to handle pirates.’

‘Do you?’ Villanelle raised an eyebrow. She reached Eve’s desk, planting her palms on the wood and leaning forward. ‘I haven’t noticed.’ The table moved under her hands, the wood sliding over the crates a fraction, but Villanelle didn’t react, her eyes boring into Eve.

Eve leaned back in her chair, fixing Villanelle with a flat, unimpressed stare. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I’m making sure we get everything we need to ship out,’ Villanelle said, still leaning on Eve’s desk.

‘I’ve never seen you here before.’

‘I’ve never had a good reason to come.’ Villanelle’s voice dropped to a whisper, and Eve felt her face heat up. Villanelle seemed to notice, her eyes flicking down to Eve’s lips.

‘You don’t seem to be helping much.’ Eve glanced around to see Bill still talking to the tall man as others lugged out barrels of water.

Villanelle grinned. ‘Is this you handling pirates? Being mean? I like it.’ She leaned further down, her shirt gaping open at the front, offering Eve a glimpse of her cleavage and her smooth, pale skin.

‘It’s not being mean. You just have to be direct,’ Eve said, looking up at Villanelle’s face as the heat travelled from her face down her neck.

‘I’m always direct,’ Villanelle said, smirking. She looked mean, sharp, and Eve felt the urge to reach out and run a finger along her edges.

Eve stood, pushing her chair back from the desk. Villanelle blinked up at her, mouth parted. ‘You don’t want to miss the tide,’ Eve said, her entire body feeling warm and outside of her control.

Villanelle tilted her head, straightening. ‘I’ll see you when I get back, Eve.’


	3. Chapter 3

Eve smelled the lamb before she got home, a tantalising mix of rosemary and meat that competed with the salty smell of the sea and the dust from the road.

Their home sat inland a small way on the outskirts of the town, sheltered from the worst of the winter winds. It was a squat, cramped building with a decent plot of land that Niko grew vegetables on. Or attempted to, anyway. The goats, Hero and Beatrice, kept finding a way through Niko’s cobbled-together fences. Eve had returned only last week to find Hero asleep, her belly more swollen than usual, and Beatrice munching the leaves of a carrot, staring at her with a flat, unimpressed gaze. She’d left it for Niko, who had scolded them like children. Niko swore goats were picky eaters, but Eve hadn’t yet seen proof, except for the way they turned their noses up at straw. 

Despite his apparent lack of prowess with fencing, he’d taken to the rest of the simple life well, returning home each day a little darker, a little leaner, and a lot more knowledgeable, even if it was all boring.

She stepped inside and Niko turned from where he was getting the lamb out of the fire, straining with the weight of the cast iron tray.

‘Good evening,’ he said, flashing her a broad smile over the steaming meat. He dumped everything on the narrow table and reached for his knife. She smiled back, tight. ‘How was your day?’

Eve sat on one of the old chairs near the table, rubbing at her shoulder. She could feel the muscles tightening as she poked at them. ‘Uh, good.’

‘Busy?’ Niko’s knuckles were white around the fork he’d stabbed into the lamb to keep it still as he carved.

‘A little.’

Niko served the meat between two plates, passing one to Eve. A sliver of carrot and three halves of potato lay on the side, the carrot blending from orange to black.

‘So, what’s the occasion?’ Eve said.

Niko looked at her with a half-grin. ‘Our wedding anniversary?’

‘No that’s not…’ Eve screwed up her eyes as she counted days in her head. ‘Oh.’

‘My present to you is forgiveness,’ Niko said, his tone heavier than his words. He pushed potato around the plate. ‘Actually, there’s something else. I, uh, we have the money.’

‘How?’ Eve frowned. She hadn’t realised he was so close to having enough, wondered where he’d got it from, if he’d been playing cards again, gambling on their futures.

He cleared his throat, scratched at the stubble on his chin. He looked awkward, his brows pulled down in disappointment, as if his speech wasn’t going the way he wanted it to. ‘I need to thank you, Eve, for sticking by me.’

‘It’s been four years, Niko. You don’t have to thank me.’

‘I do. It hasn’t been easy—’

‘Niko, please. I’m not in the mood. Just tell me.’ Eve poked at the lamb, watching the tines of the fork pierce the meat with more concentration than she needed. If she just acted cold and unimpressed, she could get him to stop sharing his feelings, his hopes, his wants, and just tell her what she wanted to know. 

‘Working, Eve.’ Niko sighed, as though her lack of trust was a burden. She supposed it was. ‘That’s not—I just mean I can pay off the debt. We can go back.’ He scratched at his knuckle with a dirty thumbnail, and she wondered if he was trying to draw her attention to the evidence of the work he’d been doing that day. A kind of revulsion worked its way through Eve’s body, although she didn’t know if it was for Niko and his optimism, or herself and her secrecy.

‘We don’t have the money for the crossing. What will we do once we’re there? Beg our way into a house?’ Eve said. She wanted to sound angry rather than relieved, threw a hand out to punctuate her words.

‘I’ve written a letter to Maciek,’ Niko said, an eagerness to his voice. ‘We could stay with him. Once we have money for the crossing.’

‘Maciek?’ Eve shook her head. ‘No.’

‘It wasn’t his fault,’ Niko said, a heavy emphasis staining the words as if saying it with enough passion would make her care. It never had before, her hatred of Maciek only etching deeper every time Niko defended him.

Eve snorted, stabbing at the meat with more force. The fork scraped across the plate, a loud, unpleasant sound, and she did it again instead of answering. She wondered how many times she’d have to make this sound before Niko would give up talking to her.

‘He lost everything too.’

‘He could afford to lose it.’ Eve knew she should blame Niko, and she did. But she also believed him when he’d told her the game had been rigged, that Maciek had dragged him into a high bet, that they’d been cheated rather than beaten. And she didn’t have to live with Maciek.

‘His parents could afford it.’

‘What’s the difference, Niko?’ Eve pushed her plate away as her fork trick failed, the aggravation eating her appetite. Niko followed it with dark eyes, brow drawn into a tight frown.

‘Well, I’ve asked,’ Niko said, soft.

‘Without asking me,’ Eve said. ‘Again.’

Niko clenched his jaw, eyes still on Eve’s plate. ‘What would you have us do, Eve?’

Eve looked away. ‘I want to go back on our terms. If we go back.’

‘If?’ Niko sounded hollow, the word leaving him in a puff of air.

‘We can’t go back as beggars, Niko.’

‘It will take years,’ he said, his frustration coming to the fore.

‘That’s not my fault,’ Eve snapped.

Niko rubbed at his temples, closing his eyes before nodding. ‘Of course. You’re right. Sorry. Can we get back to celebrating our marriage, please?’ He picked up his mug full of water, raising it from the table in a toast.

Eve knew he meant it as a peace offering, but the gesture felt mocking. She didn’t deserve a toast, any more than he did. ‘I’m going to the Lion.’

‘Now?’ Niko raised his eyebrows at her.

‘I promised Bill,’ Eve said.

Niko huffed. ‘Well, does it have to be now?’

‘I want to go.’ Eve watched Niko’s face, how he didn’t allow it to shift to show anger. He never liked to fight, and she still didn’t know if she thought it was a strength or a weakness.

‘You haven’t even finished tea.’

‘I’ll have it later.’

His face sagged, and he nodded once. Eve hesitated before standing, the defeat on his face almost enough to make her reach out for him. She knew if she asked him to come he would say yes. He didn’t like the Lion, didn’t enjoy the crowds and the loudness, preferred the quiet and his goats, but he would do it so they could spend the night together.

She didn’t ask him.

…

Kenny set the beer down in front of Eve, waved her away as she tried to pay. ‘For being patient this morning,’ he said, a grim little smile on his face. He turned back to pour a drink for an actual paying customer, the line of his shoulders tense.

‘He’s such a bad barkeeper,’ Hugo said, leaning into Eve but otherwise not bothering to keep his voice down. He was watching Elena, laughing with a group of men at the other end of the bar. He’d found Eve and Bill sitting at the bar and dragged a chair over to sit between them, already half-cut and flushed with it.

‘He’s not,’ Eve said, pushing Hugo away. ‘I like Kenny.’

‘He has the charisma of a sock,’ Hugo said. Eve flapped a hand, trying to gesture him to be quiet. She didn’t think Kenny could hear them, busy as he was.

Bill rolled his eyes. ‘He’s trustworthy, at least.’

‘I’m trustworthy.’

Bill scoffed into his beer. ‘You would sell this conversation if you could.’

‘You don’t say anything worth paying for,’ Hugo said with a wide grin.

‘Knock it off,’ Eve said, tapping the bar between them. ‘We’re here for me.’

‘Oh?’ Hugo leaned back into her with his alcohol-stained breath. ‘And what happened to you?’

Eve opened her mouth to say _my husband thinks we can leave_ when Bill cut across her.

‘She got in a fight with Villanelle,’ Bill said.

Hugo’s eyebrows disappeared into his hair, his face stretched out in a caricature of its former self. ‘What?’

‘Oh, nothing.’ Eve waved a hand.

‘Eve, come on, I need details. She’s eaten a man’s heart–‘

‘She hasn’t,’ Bill said, with a shake of his head.

‘Stolen from Blackbeard himself—‘

‘Obviously untrue.’

‘Half siren, half demon—‘

‘Of course not.’

Eve held up a hand as Hugo opened his mouth. ‘You know those are just stories.’

‘Yes, but they’re good stories,’ Hugo said. ‘You have no idea how excited the people I meet at Port Royal are to hear about her. A female pirate?’

Eve shrugged. ‘Bill’s exaggerating. She just eavesdropped on my conversation.’

Hugo pulled a face, leaning back in his seat. ‘Yeah that’s not… exciting.’ He ran a finger around the rim of his glass. ‘Got anything better?’

‘Oh, look. It’s Raymond,’ Bill muttered, turning his body back to the bar. Eve followed suit, not wanting to make eye contact with the man as he pushed his way through the crowd.

‘What’s wrong?’ Hugo said, staring at Raymond unabashed.

‘He’s been told he can’t go out,’ Eve said. ‘He got seen.’

Hugo frowned. ‘Well, that’s happened a lot. Seems odd he’d get told off now.’

Bill took a sip of his beer, looking wary. ‘Best not to speculate.’

Eve looked towards the entrance, where Carolyn sat at her usual table, fingers tapping against her glass in a rhythm. Frank Haleton sat across from her, his long arms flailing as he regaled Carolyn with some story that she appeared deeply uninterested in. She looked up, caught Eve’s eye, and smiled in a self-deprecating way.

Eve smiled back.

…

Villanelle stood at the stern of the ship, watching as the island got smaller and smaller. She liked the way it receded, the way it faded to nothing, just like her estimation of it. The sun was still about an hour from setting, and the orange haze gave the water a golden hue.

She wondered what Eve was doing, if she was with her husband or lover, if she was still at the warehouse. It was nice, to have someone to think about again, even if they remained on the shore and made her endure the sea alone.

She heard footsteps behind her, hoped that her refusal to turn would be enough of a hint she wanted to be alone.

‘Good afternoon.’ Larry stepped into the corner of her eye, rolling a cigar between his thin fingers. Smoke curled from the tip, and he took a puff, blowing out a smoke ring.

‘Don’t have that here,’ Villanelle said, screwing up her nose. ‘I will throw away your vodka.’

Larry shrugged, holding the cigar away from her. ‘The Captain asked if I’d like to be first mate.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Villanelle said. ‘Now go away.’

‘I think he was worried I would start poisoning the food. It’s flattering that you like me enough to suggest it.’

‘I don’t. But Anton is an insult.’ Villanelle closed her eyes as the word slipped out of the dark place behind her heart. Something twisted in her, poking at each of her ribs, squeezing the air from her lungs.

‘An insult?’ Larry pursed his lips. ‘Ah.’

‘To all of us,’ Villanelle said, quick.

‘Mmhmm.’ Larry looked like he didn’t believe her, and she cursed herself for the slip of the tongue. ‘Was Filip?’ He wasn’t looking at her, staring down at the cigar he kept rolling up and down his thumb. ‘Fred?’

She reached out and plucked the cigar from him, flicking it overboard. He watched it go, lips tugged down. The cigar tumbled through the air, blown left a way by the wind, before landing in the ship’s wake and being dragged under.

He folded his arms, taking her in. ‘You’re going to get yourself in trouble.’

‘I will throw you after your cigar, Larry.’

He shrugged and left her standing alone. Villanelle scoffed at his back. She would admit she hadn’t been as careful with Filip as she should have been, hadn’t let him live long enough to erase all suspicions. But Fred had appeared accidental, tossed overboard in a storm, and Filip, as far as anyone knew, had been the victim of a robbery on the island. All Konstantin and Larry had were suspicions. Although, that was all that anyone needed around here to enact justice, it seemed.

She turned to survey the rest of the ship. The sails pulled taut against the wind, and she could see Anton directing some men to pull a rope even tighter.

He caught her looking, smiled, and she smiled back, mocking. He crooked a finger at her to come help, and she thought about refusing, considered just wandering away back below deck to her cupboard of a room. But what would she do, stare at the ceiling until she fell asleep? Masturbate?

She walked over to Anton, letting her smile become more genuine. The speck of the ship they were chasing had become larger in the hour since she’d last looked, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she had something to do.

It made the whole thing a little more bearable.

…

Villanelle crossed the board that had been laid down between the two ships, a step behind Anton. She contemplated shoving him. He might not die, but his face would be scraped to pieces against the side of the other ship if she timed it right, which would be nice to see.

Konstantin was already talking to the captain of the other ship in rapid Spanish, something about tobacco. Villanelle screwed up her face, already imagining the smell of it permeating the kitchen, Larry wreathed in smoke. The only good thing about his habit was the fact he was very bad at rationing himself, so he would spend a day chain-smoking before reverting back to a few a day, then one, then none.

She folded her arms, looking out around the crew to curb her boredom. She didn’t like it when they surrendered. They’d gathered on deck, sitting to show their lack of intent to fight. Cowards.

One of the men was looking at her, a puzzled little frown on his face. She noticed it a lot, the way that men didn’t seem to understand she was a woman, here to kill them. They called it ‘unlucky’, and she would agree. She did tend to be unlucky for other people.

She grinned at him, tilting her head back so he could see her face better, and grabbed her breast. The man’s eyes widen in either horror or anger, and he whispered something to the man next to him who also looked her way.

‘Stop,’ Anton said, reaching over and slapping her hand away.

‘Don’t touch my tits,’ Villanelle said, loud. Konstantin looked back at them, raised an eyebrow.

‘I didn’t,’ Anton said, his usual breezy air gone, replaced by something almost desperate.

‘You did. Pervert.’ Villanelle pouted at Konstantin, who turned back to the Spanish captain. The captain had watched the antics as well, a slight furrow in his brow that grew deeper when Villanelle smiled. Konstantin sighed, long and heavy, in a way that told Villanelle he was disappointed, before turning back to his conversation. He never believed that she didn’t care about his feelings.

Anton leaned towards Villanelle. ‘You let Anatoli touch,’ he whispered, a sneer on his face.

She drew her sword before she’d thought about it, placing it against his throat. ‘Go on,’ she said.

‘Villanelle!’ Konstantin snapped.

Anton smirked, and it wasn’t good enough – he didn’t think she would kill him in front of everyone. She would. As much as she knew she shouldn’t have played her hand in front of everyone, as much as she knew it would have repercussions, she would kill him. But she wanted him to be scared, terrified, cowering. Maybe he would be once she slit his throat, but she couldn’t be sure. He was robbing her. His smile widened, and she grinned back, because it was kind of funny that the only thing keeping him alive was his own belief that she cared about consequences.

‘Villanelle!’ Konstantin said again. Villanelle glanced at him, saw the captain behind him signal something, and the crew rose in a wave, a roar escaping them.

Good.

Anton took the opportunity to push her sword away, taking a step back from her. Konstantin yelled something else but she wasn’t listening, already taking a step to the side to make sure more of their crew could cross the planks.

Anton swore next to her, drawing his pistol and firing it. He hit someone in the leg, and they staggered, tripping the man behind them. 

‘Terrible shot,’ she shouted, stepping around a Spaniard and slicing up his back, a long, loving stroke of pain that she knew would keep him down, if not kill him. She didn’t think Anton had heard her, set on as he was, made a note to tell him again before he died.

She sliced another man across the chest before stabbing her dagger into his back. The blade skittered across bone before sinking in, and she wrenched it back out as the man fell, his hands scrabbling at his back.

She slipped a little, the deck already wet with blood, as she took a step back out of reach of a large man, his red face twisted up as he swung a short sword at her head. Her slip sent her back into the railing, and she rolled away from his slow, overhead chop, ducking back into his personal space and slicing through his calf muscle with her knife. He bellowed, and Villanelle hacked her sword down into the crease between his neck and shoulder, stronger than she needed to, the excitement getting to her. He collapsed onto the railing, yanking Villanelle’s sword out of her grip with his forward pitch. She grabbed the back of his shirt, planting a foot against the railing and tugging him backwards, trying to save her sword from going over.

Pain lanced across her shoulder, a bullet whistling past her and taking some of her blood with it. She looked behind her, letting the corpse go and ducking out of range of another Spaniard, waving his sword through the air like he’d never used one before. She waited for him to lash out again, a broad, heavy swing, before leaping forward and burying her dagger in his chest. He fell back and she landed on top of him, stabbing down again and again. A bubble of blood appeared at his lips. He was beautiful, like this, twitching on the deck like a fish who’d fancied themselves a shark. She preferred this intimacy, preferred to watch them die, enjoyed the way they all seemed to realise what was happening a second before it did, the terror dragging them into the dark of death.

She couldn’t wait to see what Anton would look like.

Another gunshot yanked her out of her happiness, and she looked up to see Anton making his way deeper into the fray. She wondered if he was trying to get away from her. Possibly. Probably he still thought she wouldn’t risk it. Idiot.

Villanelle dragged herself away from her piece of art, winding her way around the fighting, tracking him through the madness. She saw him kick open the doors into the ship, slip inside, and she followed. How did he think this would save him?

‘Anton?’ she called, taking the steps two at a time. She pulled her pistol from its holster, checking that the shot was loaded. The further she got from the deck the less should hear the sounds of swords clashing.

She poked her head around the corner and jerked it back as Anton fired a shot.

‘Hello, darling,’ Anton said over the ringing in her ears.

‘Hello, honey,’ Villanelle said, stepping out into the corridor. She raised her own gun. ‘You’re going to die.’

‘You won’t shoot me.’

‘I will,’ Villanelle said.

‘Everybody will know it was you. The Twelve will – ‘

‘Anton.’ Villanelle smiled in what she hoped was an understanding way, so that he could understand how beneath her he really was. ‘I don’t care.’

His smug look gave way to apprehension, gave way to fear, and she smiled in a different way now.

‘You know you have a skull face?’ Villanelle said. ‘You look very evil. It’s why no one likes you.’ She pulled the trigger.

It clicked.

Anton blinked.

She frowned, pulling the trigger again with the same result. ‘Sorry. You know how these old things are. Unrel- ’ Anton grabbed her wrist, smashing her hand into the wall. The gun dropped to the floor, and he tugged her towards him, attempting to stab her. She turned the blade aside with her knife, taking the opportunity to kick him in the balls. He raised his knee, blocking her attempt, and she pushed her shoulder into him, sending them both to the floor, landing with her body on Anton’s sword arm, her knife beneath her.

Anton tried to roll, nearly dislocating his arm in the process with a howl. He let her go, hand scratching across her face towards her throat, brushing against her eyelids. It stung, and she turned her face to pay him back, biting into his shoulder. He screamed, noisy in life and death, she thought, before she pushed herself up and stabbed her knife sideways into Anton’s gut.

He groaned, now, the tension leaving his body, and she sat more upright, breathing hard.

She wiped a hand across her eye, fingers coming away bloody. ‘Are you serious?’ She twisted the knife, watching as Anton’s face contorted. ‘Joke’s on you, Anton, I would like great with an eyepatch.’

He looked overwhelmed, horrified, amazed, and she watched until he’d gone still, cold, before pulling her knife free and sitting back, looking at his glazed eyes. The peace threatened to overwhelm her, a sense of right settling over the world and over her shoulders, weighing her down. For the first time since finding out Anton was first mate, she felt like she could sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been so slow! Hope you enjoyed.


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